


Ringmaster

by FauxBate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Clothed Sex, Creampie, Devotion, F/M, Group Sex, Harems, Heterosexual Sex, Intercrural Sex, Kidnapping, Light Petting, Loss of Virginity, Love, MILFs, Magic, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Naked Male Clothed Female, Nipple Licking, Nudity, Oral Sex, Passion, Pedophilia, Polygamy, Porn With Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teenagers, Underage Sex, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxBate/pseuds/FauxBate
Summary: A magic ring, lost for millennia, comes into your possession. With it you can unlock a new world of sexual delights.
Relationships: Everyone/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 124





	1. On The Loss of the Ring

_An Attican Villa, Athens, 432 BC_

_One Year Before the Start of the Peloponnesian War_

* * *

"The hour approaches," a hollow, thinning voice croaked out, sounding to all the world like the death-rattle of one whose long life had finally run its course.

"Dear Phoebe, oh Phoebe, come closer," the old man's whisper was barely audible over the lewd sounds of fornication in his lap. Wet squishes, whorish squelches, and nubile moans echoed through the silk-lined marble chamber surrounding the enormous bed on which he reclined.

The girl to whom he spoke, a svelte redheaded teenager, was currently bouncing in the ancient man's lap; her lithe, fit body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and she moaned, gasping, while the aged but pristine cock of her lover stretched out her little pussy like no other tool ever would. Suddenly realizing her name had been called, Phoebe laid her trim body upon the man's, keeping his rod within her depths and bringing her ear to his slightly-parted lips. The intimacy of their new position seemed to light a fire under the man's lust, and he brought his withered hands to her young, full ass, groping and kneading her butt to his heart's content, a gnarled finger eventually extending to prod at the tight, soft ring of her only remaining virginal hole.

The girl's body begged her to resume fucking the cock currently filling her to the brim, but she kept herself under control long enough to hear the old man rasp:

"Phoebe, my darling, I'll soon leave this world. The time has come."

The ancient man felt the snug little cunt tighten achingly around his massive girth, and her delicate, unclaimed butthole clenched, just barely sucking in a fingertip. Though he did not see her emerald eyes clearly enough to notice them welling up, he felt the hot tears hit his cheeks -- the poor girl was too young to deal with the death of the greatest lover she'd ever know, but of all his enormous harem Phoebe was the most qualified to keep the ring safe, as she had not yet had her mind and will totally broken by his sexual power. Steeling himself long enough to relay his message, the old man continued, "You know what must be done with the ring. I will not survive the night, but I knew you were the one I could count on the most to fulfill my orders after I'm gone, Phoebe. Your sister wives will follow your command -- it's your duty to keep them safe."

Phoebe's dainty hands gripped his shoulders harder, trying to keep him close in his last few moments. His breath was already a dry wheeze in her ear. Even through the pain of knowing her husband's doom was nearing, her loins ached to be filled with his seed -- perhaps his last load. Involuntarily, her hips began to roll in an effort to coax out that which was most precious to her and all of her fellow wives. This elicited a gleeful chuckle from the man, who extracted his fingertip from the ring of her ass and gripped the base of his monstrous tool to line his cockhead up with her asshole.

Phoebe purred through her tears and greedily pushed her hips back, the pussy-slick head of her husband's dick popping neatly into her now-deflowered butt. A long, lewd moan was drawn from her throat, and her eyes flew open in ecstasy. She orgasmed immediately, her nails biting into her husband's aged flesh, and her lips locking with his. Her tight, pink pussy drooled into his thatch of grey pubic hair, filling the large chamber with the scent of a woman in heat. Their tongues danced passionately, and when they separated to breathe, the man croaked out, "Remember..."

His thick cock pulsed, twitched, and released its virile load directly into Phoebe's ass. His eyes shut, a grunt escaped his lips, and his head fell back onto his silken pillow, never to rise again.

After extracting herself and keeping a finger pressed to her rosebud to keep his seed within her, Phoebe wept openly on the walk to exit the chamber. Her sister wives greeted her solemnly, for they all knew what had happened. Many hands fell on her shoulders, and no eye would be dry within the villa for the remainder of the month. Lying on her stomach, on a settee designed for just this purpose, Phoebe raised her little pale ass high to the air, feeling the warm Mediterranean breeze, which caressed all their bare young flesh from many open windows, tickle her freshly-fucked nethers.

One by one, each of her sister wives took turns kneeling before her deflowered butt, sensually licking from her clit, along her slit, to catch a drop of cum which struggled to escape the confines of her virgin-tight booty. Every now and then, a new orgasm would wrack Phoebe's slight frame as each tongue was replaced by a new one rapidly, stimulating her to new heights of sexual bliss.

Thankfully, their late master was many times more potent than mortal men, so each woman and girl, several scores in all, was able to savor the taste of her husband's seed one last time. Some swallowed the pearly ichor without hesitation, others took the droplet from the tip of their tongue and pressed it into their pussy or ass, as a final sign of their dearly departed man's ownership of their bodies.

When the ritual was finished, Phoebe made sure to clean and dress the old man's body for his funeral, not forgetting to take his precious ring and wear it upon her finger, as she would always, to pass it along to the women in her family until the end of time, so that no man would ever hold her husband's place of honor again.

She wore and protected it for less than a year, until the men of Sparta came to their villa, ransacked it, and pulled down the pillars of the estate, the rubble falling to hide their abode and the ring until the end of days.


	2. On The Theft of the Ring

_The British Museum, London, 2018 AD_

* * *

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

The mechanical voice boomed along with several klaxons in the curator's office. The man himself, a portly, goatee'd specimen in his thirties, was shocked awake at the sudden noise. Thankfully, he mused, no one had been around to notice his dozing off within his office. Wiping the drool from his mouth, the curator stood up and walked quickly to his office door, eager to discover the meaning of this alarm.

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

As his thick hand hit the polished door handle, he hesitated. What if someone had broken into the museum -- someone dangerous? He could open this door and be shot for his trouble. He had to be careful. Going slowly so as to minimize the noise he made, the curator opened his office door as little as possible and stuck his head quickly into the hallway.

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

The damnable automated alarm was even louder out here, and a series of red lights set at intervals along the wall pulsed rhythmically. Looking left, the curator saw nothing but the end of the hallway. Only a couple doors were between his and the large window, but they were closed and no disturbance seemed to be going on behind them. He turned his head right, and was suddenly face-to-face with his secretary, Lara.

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

Her pale blue eyes were wild with uncertainty, creating a contrast with her well-maintained appearance: her wavy brown hair was, as always, smartly pulled into a professional ponytail, the makeup on her angelic face was tastefully done, the highlight of which were her sensual, crimson-painted lips, and her style of dress was the pinnacle of well-put-together; today she wore a blood-red turtleneck sweater which swelled and stretched to contain her large breasts, with a stylish, black knee-length skirt over her stocking-wrapped legs, which ran tantalizingly down to her pump-covered feet.

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

The curator must have been staring, since Lara cleared her throat and spoke in a harsh whisper, her posh London accent carrying her consonants exquisitely, "Sir, a visitor's smashed one of the cases in the Hellenic exhibit! I've told security to lock the Greek wing down, we just need to go catch this kid!"

"Kid?" The curator questioned the frazzled young woman. "Let's go Lara, walk and talk." The man put on his most confident voice; what was important during an event like this was that he maintained his authority -- or the illusion of it, at least. Inside he was still waking up, and confused as hell, but if he played his cards right none of his employees would know that.

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

As they walked briskly through the corridors of the museum, Lara led the way and explained the situation:

The alarm had been triggered about an hour ago. Security locked down the building and all exhibits, hoping to keep the thief quarantined until the location of the break-in could be discovered. A sweep of the exhibits was conducted floor by floor until they could all be verified as intact. A guard noticed a broken display case in the Greek wing, but no one, not even the tour guide assigned to that section, the resident ancient Greek historian, could explain what had been taken. It seemed like something was certainly gone, but not a single guess could be made as to what was missing.

**"ALERT! ALERT!"**

"Okay, that's...odd," the curator mused, starting to lose his breath from the walk, "but what was all that about some kid?"

"Oh, right," his prim-and-proper underling began, "the only people who were in the Greek wing at the time of the incident were two groups of foreign students, one Japanese class and one American class. We've searched them all but we still can't make sense of this. Hopefully you can set this right."

Lara's statement was perfectly timed. At that moment, they both stood in front of the high archway beyond which stood their vast collection of Hellenic artifacts. The two guards standing abreast nodded in recognition to the two and stood aside, allowing them to see the impromptu lineup of foreign students awaiting questioning.

**"ALERT! ALE-"**

Thank God someone had finally turned that thing off. The red lights, too, had been deactivated, so the frightened faces of the students were illuminated to be judged.

Pacing with deliberate slowness, the curator first inspected the broken display case. There was no plaque and no indication what might have been inside, though it was small enough that it probably held something which could be easily concealed. So he began to inspect each of the young students, asking questions to each as he went along. To his surprise, the Japanese kids spoke incredible English, and appeared to be more than willing to cooperate with him. Innocent, if he had to guess.

The American kids were a different story. Those few who answered him were pissed, rude, and unhelpful.

And he couldn't for the life of him remember what belonged in that case.

Fuck. If he didn't get a clue from one of these brats, he was pretty sure he'd have to just take the loss.

"Um, boss," Lara tapped his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "there are a few more at the end there for you to talk to."

The curator's eyes left the short blonde student in front of him, flicking right. Oh damn, he had missed a few. They just seemed so normal, he may have overlooked them entirely of Lara hadn't helped him out.

A brown-haired american schoolboy was laying, totally nude, on the cold tile of the floor, but very little could be distinguished of him due to the many girls obscuring his body. They were all clearly from the Japanese class, though they had no uniforms to distinguish them as such. Their bare skin glistened beneath the lights, and made their young bodies practically glow as they attended to their work.

Each girl's mouth was occupied: two sucked loudly on the boy's nipples while one girl laying with her head hanging over his sloppily made out with him, their tongues dancing together in saliva-dripping passion. She couldn't straddle him as his crotch was occupied: three Japanese schoolgirls huddled close to attend to his iron-hard cock. It stood up straight as a pillar and twitched with arousal as two mouths caressed it from either side, their tongues coating it in spit and forming a hot, wet ring to stroke it to orgasm. The third girl's mouth was full of his balls, gently rolling them to coax out his seed. Two more nude girls sucked the boy's toes, which now curled suddenly, signaling his imminent release.

And he really _released._

A veritable geyser of hot, white cum spurted forth from his tool, raining down on the tight bodies of the Asian girls surrounding him. They all squealed in delight, holding their hands in front of them and opening their mouths to try and catch as much as possible. Much landed on the tile, there to mingle with the rivulets of pussy juice that dripped and dribbled from their tight little snatches. Roughly pushing the girls aside, the boy stood, and walked towards the curator and Lara.

With a finger adorned with a golden ring, the young man pointed at Lara, his eyes burning with desire at her form. If the curator were to guess, he'd say the kid was about fourteen. He spoke in a voice more confident than someone of his age should possess, "Hot business lady, clean me off with those titties."

Lara wasted no time in shedding her sweater and unhooking her bra, presenting an incredible set of big, perky natural breasts. She wrapped them around the young guy's rod, and he hummed with satisfaction, experimentally humping between them to savor their size and softness. The final remnants of seed were transferred from his shaft to her phenomenal tits, there to decorate her flesh for his amusement.

Well, the curator cursed, there was clearly nothing out of the ordinary here. It seemed he would just have to cut his losses.

Shit.


	3. Your Birthday Party

_Your Hometown, The United States of America, 2020 AD_

* * *

Today is your 18th birthday.

And you're still a virgin.

The thought that you convinced your crush, Amy, to go bowling with you on your big day is of little consolation. The sixteen-year-old blonde teenage dream stands just a bit shorter than you, and sports assets a model would kill for; she's everything you've ever wanted in a girl: kind, beautiful, and friendly to a fault.

Thankfully for you, Amy is single. As a devout Christian, she has never even kissed a boy, let alone thought of dating one outside of engagement. In her own words, she's waiting 'for a man who wants to make an honest woman of me, and marry me before we _do the deed_.' This last part is always said with an air of awkwardness that belies her sexual ignorance. To your knowledge, Amy is the picture of innocence.

To put it simply, she's very inexperienced and uncomfortable talking about sexuality; as a young guy who's never even had a handjob, fucking is almost all you can think about, especially with Amy's remarkable body tempting you every time you see her. Ever since you first met her at fourteen in freshman year, she's been the mainstay of your late-night masturbatory fantasies. But, you've been able to control yourself so far, and have focused more on getting close to Amy rather than trying to push her into dating you so that you can get your rocks off. That makes the scene in front of you that much harder to stomach. While you stand there dumbly holding your bowling ball, having just finished your turn at the lane, she seems more interested in other matters.

A schoolmate of yours, Roger, invited himself along to your party when you mentioned it during class today, and Amy can't take her eyes off him.

Roger is constantly fucking girls in front of Amy, and seems to get some sick pleasure from it. Of course there's nothing wrong with him enjoying some pussy or ass whenever or however he wants with whomever he wants, but it's the way he seems to be tempting Amy that incenses you. While you would usually find his sexual antics totally unremarkable, a small ball of fear twists in your gut whenever you consider whether he'll ever choose to take Amy from you. Nothing is stopping him, except maybe his obsession with making her watch him do all manner of debased things. Is it so exciting for him because she's so pure and innocent?

Currently, Rogers lips are making a tight seal on the flat breast of the petite Asian waitress currently bouncing in his lap. Her rumpled uniform lies in a heap beneath Roger's legs except for her pink lacy panties that were only hastily pulled to the side to allow him access to her ass. His black jeans are around his thighs, pulled down just enough to allow his cock access to the raven-haired employee's little butthole. Her naturally olive skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, and her tiny, lightly-furred pussy leaks fluid onto him. Since she's so small, Roger has both of his hands enclosed totally around her thin waist, and he forces her ass roughly up and down his shaft. The small Asian girl obviously has mixed feelings about the matter, sometimes seeming bored, occasionally wincing in pain, and other times panting and moaning with obvious enjoyment.

That would all be no matter of interest except for the way his eyes are locked firmly on Amy's, and hers on his thick dickflesh invading the minuscule entrance to the girl's butt. Even when his tongue is occupied with a hard nipple and his cock with the clenching booty he so rightfully deserves, his attention is firmly on the bubbly blonde Christian, the waitress reduced to no more than a living fleshlight to get him off while he ogles your crush. Amy's eyes seem to shine with very un-holy desire, and is that her finger reaching out hesitantly to brush the shaft of his monstrous dick?

Maybe you should intervene before things get out of hand.

"Whoops!" You cry out almost comically, dropping your bowling ball and causing a loud _crash_ to echo throughout the bowling alley. Everyone's head turns toward you, with the exception of the Asian waitress', as she's now biting into Roger's shoulder, apparently cumming from the loud anal fucking she's receiving. With his mouth now unoccupied by the little breast, Roger is free to glare your way with obvious annoyance. Does he know you made a scene purposefully? You hope not -- he might take revenge by popping Amy's cherry.

But your plan succeeded: Amy's hand is withdrawn and she's now rushing to your side, doting over you in her typical caring fashion. After making sure your foot wasn't hurt, and that you're feeling alright, she returns to her seat, but with her eyes glued to you and off Roger's tryst, with a hint of worry still present on her features.

With an animalistic grunt, and with his plan to seduce your friend spoiled, Roger finally fills the little girl's ass with a load of cum so large it makes his entire phallus quake. She's quickly pulled off his rod, but her ass is so tight it quickly seals, locking his sperm inside her asshole. Without a word the girl begins redressing and heads back to her position behind a counter, albeit with a slightly wonky gait. You sneakily peeked at her sparse bush while she dresses, wondering just how snug that pussy would feel wrapped around _your_ cock. You're pretty average in the size department but the girl's hole is so tight even you might have trouble sliding in. No wonder Roger chose her butt.

"It's your turn, Roger." You offer, with only a hint of venom. Amy is quick to smile at him, even with his erect tool still wobbling freely, a single string of jism threatening to stain Amy's yellow dress if she's not careful. Of course she doesn't notice, and only smiles when his retreating form heads into the restroom, probably to wash up after his hot fuck.

You decide then and there to say something to Roger about how you feel regarding Amy. It may backfire, but it's your only shot; maybe he'll have pity on you and not fuck your teenage crush's brains out. It's _your birthday_ after all, doesn't he have a heart? Crashing through the swinging door of the men's room, Roger heads immediately to the sink and begins to splash his face. As you get nearer your resolve begins to fail you, and you avert your eyes to head into a stall until you hear something that rings out clear as a bell: the tinkling of metal on porcelain.

It draws your attention immediately, and you snap your eyes to look at the rim of the sink. A simple sterling silver band now rests on its edge as Roger washes his hands. As if by magic, you suddenly have a sinking feeling that something about Roger's behavior tonight has been...well, wrong. But that can't be right, can it?

When you gaze at the ring you seem to remember something queer: you aren't _totally_ sure that someone fucking a strange girl in the middle of a crowded public space is _completely_ ordinary. Huh, what a weird thought. The ring holds your interest, and you're close enough to the sink that you'd have but to snatch it up to inspect it closer.

Suddenly seized by some compulsion, and without hesitation, you take the ring and place it on the ring finger of your left hand. It fits like it was made for you. Roger's eyes go wide and he has a look of panic on his features for a moment, but once the ring rests on your finger, that disappears and he goes back to washing his hands, your thievery seemingly forgotten. In an instant, a wave of images, emotions, and impressions flashes through your mind, and the truth is finally revealed to you.

The power this ring gives you is most certainly _not_ normal.

With this ring, any female on the planet is yours to command, and yours to possess if you wish. They will worship you, they will love you, and they will be completely under your power for as long as you desire. The history of the ring is revealed to you as well, into the very distant past. You see the lives and antics of everyone who has owned it before you, and you are now forever linked by the enchantment of this incredible artifact. For Roger's part, he stole the thing, and enjoyed his first orgy at the age of thirteen with a class of little Asian schoolgirls. Hmm, you guess he had a thing for Oriental girls. And then there was the English museum employee he basically enslaved, who still lived with him at home and kept his balls nice and empty whenever he wanted. You'd definitely have to find a woman like that, though you dimly wonder what will become of her now. Eh, no matter.

This power is already intoxicating to you, and your cock hardens as your mind fills with naughty images of all the disgusting fantasies you're going to bring into the real world, all the pussy you're going to be enjoying for the rest of your life. In response to the pleasure coursing through your cock, pre-cum dribbles from your tip, staining the front of your pants while your lust goes wild. You have the desperate urge to fuck something _now_. And you know _exactly_ how you want to lose your virginity.


	4. It Begins

You swagger from the bathroom with a confidence you've never before experienced. The sheer sense of _power_ you feel is nearly overwhelming. Now, where to start?

Aha!

Amy and Roger are conversing as if he wasn't just eye-fucking her while buggering a waitress two minutes ago, and he quickly excuses himself, flashing you a smile and friendly wave before departing. You know he'll forget everything he did with the ring, and it really reminds you how precious it is that you hold onto it. You promise yourself that you'll never make a mistake like Roger did. This thing is never leaving your finger -- the power can be too easily taken. And speaking of taken, your target is now all alone, smiling your way and beckoning you over. You decide this isn't the best venue for your conquest, so you wave her over to you, and place a greedy arm around her waist. She doesn't stop you, or stop grinning, for that matter.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," you whisper lustily in her ear, adding a squeeze to her hip for good measure. Her arms naturally fall onto your shoulders and she beams, saying "Whatever you want."

You pay for your unfinished game and sit down to put your real shoes back on, your eyes glued to Amy the entire time; the way her dress hugs her sinful curves, the golden tresses which frame her rosy, pubescent face, and the curved lips you can't help but imagine wrapped around your magical prick. You ogle her openly, and when she notices, she blushes and turns her face back to tying her own laces. Fuck, you can't take it anymore, and you don't want to waste a quick shot on the girl of your dreams. You decide to have a quick orgasm before you get to Amy, your main course. You look upwards and scan the lanes around you, hoping to catch sight of a suitable girl with which to slake your lust. Unfortunately most of the full-figured females are moms with their kids, which usually isn't your style, as evidenced by Amy -- you like them younger. You briefly consider the Asian waitress Roger was enjoying earlier, but there's no way you'd go for sloppy seconds, even if it was in a different hole.

You're just about to give up when you see a family enter the bowling alley and go to the front counter to buy their equipment. The father is a large, muscled man with salt-and-pepper hair, and he holds the hand of his wife, a stunning redheaded vixen about his same age. She's got some nice curves, and you love her hair, but your prize is standing beside her. A girl which must be their daughter is trailing behind them both, totally oblivious to the world while typing away on her phone. She's probably not even interested in being here, and you hope you can help her enjoy this family outing a little more. If you had to guess, you'd place her age somewhere around the end of middle school, maybe thirteen? She's certainly slim, and definitely not yet in high school. She shares her mothers curly red locks, which flow down to the small of her back. The girl is dressed in high-waisted lilac shorts and a tight white T-shirt that covers her slim shoulders and modest breasts. A pair of black sand shoes completes her look, and you thrill when you notice the frilly socks around her ankles -- cute.

Knowing it'll be no hassle to use her, you walk to the desk and place a hand upon one of the tiny, lilac-covered cheeks of her butt, squeezing it firmly but without hurting her. A small _peep_ comes from her lips, and she whips around in fright, only to calm down when she sees you. This also gives you a wonderful view of the freckles adorning her cheeks and nose; oh yes, she'll do nicely. Her mom and dad's heads whip around, but they turn away when they notice you, even as you massage the right asscheek of their adolescent daughter. Your lust renewed, you bring your other hand to the front of her shorts and begin to stroke between her legs with two fingers, pressing against the thin bit of fabric which separates you from the little girl's cunt. Her eyes are a deep blue, and seem to draw you into themselves as you molest her little booty and pubic mound. Already as hard as diamonds, you quickly get to work removing your pants. In fact, you'll probably never put them back on, and decide to just leave them on the floor of the bowling alley for good. Your cock springs to attention, poking insistently at the covered gap between the young girl's legs. Experimentally, you reach your pussy-stroking hand around to cup her other buttcheek, and line your raging erection up with the space between her thighs. It's a tight fit, but her shorts hug your tool wonderfully, and by instinct you lean in to kiss her.

She reciprocates, nervously allowing you access to her mouth and pressing her thin body against yours out of pure instinct, wrapping her arms around you. This has the effect of further stroking your cock, and hilting it against her thighs. The head of your dick now pokes out beyond her gropable little butt, leaking pre-cum with abandon as it begs for a place to stick itself.

Inspiration strikes again.

You tell the young girl to get naked and get back into that position. She hurries to comply, extracting herself from you and tearing off her garments, which includes an adorable training bra and a pair of thin purple panties with hearts dotting them. Now totally naked before you, the girl once again sheathes your dick between her thighs. Now her motion is greatly aided by the lack of friction from her clothing, and the added lubricant from her leaking little pussy. It's hot as fuck on your shaft, and she can't help but grind very slowly back and forth along your length, dragging her hardening clit against your cockflesh. You doubt she even understands what she's doing, she probably just knows it feels good. But who knows, you were already jerking off at her age, and she could be as horny as you were at that time in your life. With your cock now cradled between her thighs, pussy, and little cheeks, you whistle for Amy, and look her in the eye as she approaches you, even as you make out with the tween currently nursing your erection.

"Kneel, Amy, and suck it," you say, nearly delirious with lust. You feel your orgasm approaching, and you don't want to waste a load against the counter or on the floor, it needs to go _in_ something. The redheaded girl's family heads to the lane, content to leave their daughter with her molester until you're finished with her. Your Christian crush blushes but nods, and begins putting her hair up.

But it's much too late. Fuck. You're about to blow and Amy isn't even on the ground yet. You have to make a quick decision.

Jamming your tongue into the little girl's mouth, and pulling her even tighter against you, you shift your hips just enough to angle the head of your prick towards her forbidden, dripping entrance. 

In a haze of lust, you huskily whisper, "Love me," and pierce her maidenhood with one thrust. The tear of her hymen is the final push you needed, and you begin uncontrollably filling the middle schooler's shallow depths with your potent seed. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.." you call out, in both frustration and blissful release. The walls of her deflowered quim milk your dick for all its worth, and are so tight as to be nearly unbearable. For the little girl's part, her legs are now around your waist, and she writhes in orgasmic pleasure, her phone discarded onto the ground, and her tongue invading your mouth in a wild frenzy.

Amy, awestruck, can only kneel on the ground and watch as your sperm begins to leak from between your shaft and the strained lips of the young girl's devirginized hole.

"I said," you begin breathlessly, tearing your mouth from the hungry teen's, "suck it." 

Amy latches her perfect lips onto your rod, right where it meets the girl's stretched hole, and uses her tongue to lap up the remnants of your lovemaking.

With your mind now clearing from your lust-induced frenzy, you wearily try to understand where to go from here.


	5. Enter Phoebe Meletopoulos

Her name is Phoebe Meletopoulos.

Her life, until today, has always been rather normal, in her eyes at least. The fact that she's a second generation immigrant, the only child of a pair of ambitious Greeks, means little to her, as such things usually do for those too young and Americanized to value them. From her perspective, after all, she has always been an American. Those dim early years when she was toted through the crowded and tourist-filled streets of Athens are now not even a real memory -- they are a misty amalgam of the half-told stories of her father and a faint, ethereal feeling in Phoebe's gut that she comes from _somewhere else_. 

Thankfully, most days, she ignores that feeling the way most teenage girls would if they had such an inkling: social media.

Phoebe has only been thirteen for a few months, and her mother, in her kind-heartedness and naiveté, has allowed her the use of her first smartphone. Promptly, Phoebe's mother has regretted that decision as her ever-watching eyes observe Phoebe's locked to the screen in her hands, constantly typing to God-Knows-Who or swiping through God-Knows-What. 

Today the family is going bowling, as a treat on one of those rare days when the family Patriarch, Mr. Meletopoulos, is not working and can spend a few relaxing hours with the two loves of his life. Mrs. Meletopoulos has decided that this is the day she'll set her daughter straight, and finally put some limits on the use of her phone. Even as they enter the bowling alley, Phoebe's beloved gadget is cradled lovingly in her little hands, the bewitching light of its face illuminating hers, and lending an otherworldly shine to the forest green of the girl's eyes. 

For Phoebe's part, she cares little for what's going on around her, absorbed as she is with her novel device. She loves her parents dearly, of course, but they can't understand the enthusiasm and magic that a whole new world of social interaction has on the mind of a young girl. There are so many Instagram models to follow, so many trends she can't miss, a neverending stream of TikToks to watch, and of course, though she'll _never_ tell her parents, there are _boys_ to talk to. 

Phoebe is in the middle of receiving a Snap from just such a one, a boy named Alan who sits behind her in English class. They've been talking ever since he found out she got her new phone a few months ago, and she can tell that he probably likes her. He's cute, she thinks, though her experience is not just limited, it's nonexistent. Does she even like him? She thinks it over. He's taller than most of the other boys in class, plays soccer so he keeps in shape, has deep blue eyes, and keeps his dark, curly hair on the messier side. When he talks to Phoebe between classes his eyes light up and an easy smile forms on his features. She has noticed that when he walks with her to class (as he always insists on doing) a flutter begins in her abdomen. It feels like water in her stomach just beginning to boil, like a tickle deep inside of her. Yeah, she thinks she likes him too.

His Snap reads:

_Alan: "thought I might come see you tonight"_

His ridiculous message starts that fluttering up again. 

_Phoebe: "lol what? how?"_

_Alan: "I snuck out tonight_ 🙃"

This message is overlaid on a hastily-taken selfie of him and a few of Phoebe's other classmates at the Town Green, a sort of park frequented by young people which sits amidst the small businesses and restaurants located downtown. The dark of evening contrasts with the harsh light of the street lamps illuminating their features; Alan sits in the middle, a blue hoodie complimenting his eyes, and that smile gracing his lips. His best friend Roger, a brown-haired boy Phoebe knows only through reputation, since he's older than her classmates, is on Alan's right, his arm around his friend. To Alan's left is Yuki, a Japanese exchange student...no wait, that's not right; she doesn't actually go to their school, but she'd come back with Roger from that field trip...had she? Were they dating? They used to be together, she thought, but no, that couldn't be right...

Something feels off about Yuki's presence here in America, though Phoebe's certain she didn't feel that way before. Maybe she's just jealous. After all, if Yuki _isn't_ dating Roger, and she's snuck out with Alan, what if she...

Phoebe's train of thought is broken instantly when a large hand rests itself on her little butt, and _squeezes_. 


	6. What Did You Just Do?

_Outside the Bowling Alley, Your Hometown, The United States of America, 2020 AD_

_Ten Minutes After Losing Your Virginity_

* * *

What. The. Fuck. 

The lust has cleared from your mind like fog in the rays of the Sun, and honestly, you're scared. You just committed rape. Statutory and possibly actual rape too. Not to mention public indecency. Your softened prick still lies exposed to the elements here in the night, your bare ass resting on a wooden bench embedded in the sidewalk. The girls you ordered into your car until you figure out what to do, tossing Amy the keys without even being able to look her in the eye. Hardening now on the flaccid shaft of your cock is a lurid mixture of the little girl's feminine juices, the blood of her popped cherry, Amy's saliva, and your own perverted cum that you happily spurted into the little developing womb of a girl who can't be any older than fourteen. You stare at it for a moment and close your eyes, shuddering with nervous guilt, and lolling your head over the back of the bench in defeat. You let out a groan, suddenly terrified of what this means, of what will happen to you. 

Yes, you have the power of the ring to keep you safe from jail, at least for committing an act like this. The young girl's parents shouldn't care, and no one else besides. But do _you_ care? You know that what you've done is extremely illegal, and would land anyone else in prison for a very long time, if it all didn't end prematurely in being killed by her father. That guy was huge, and you're sure that if anyone else even laid a finger on the redheaded teen, the muscle-bound man would make sure they regretted it. What would your mother say if she knew you'd just fucked a middle-schooler and had your sixteen-year-old underclassman slurp up the results? Maybe you should get rid of this damn ring and try to spend the rest of your life forgetting what you just did here. 

But wait. 

All of those problems: jail, injury, the disappointment of your family, they're all to do with others. How do _you_ feel about what you've done? Tentatively, you think back to the antics which so recently had you grunting and thrusting with unabashed desire. The scene replays in your mind, and to your surprise, your softened cock begins to engorge, and rise with the beat of your heart.

You liked it. You still do. 

You're fucked up, you're certain, but you loved taking that girl and doing to her whatever pleased you. And honestly, it seemed like she liked it too. Amy only smiled as you violated the little girl's pussy, and happily drank both of your fluids. She's just about the most moral person you know, and she never thought twice. For all of her Christian upbringing and outlook, she helped you rape a young girl and would happily open her legs or spread her ass for you to do the same to her if you wanted. Your pulsing, rigid member is the proof that you do. You want this power, and you won't waste it. 

Fuck the laws of your nation, they don't apply to you. 

Fuck the opinion of others, they'll never mind what you do. 

And fuck every girl you want, that's _exactly_ what you'll do. 

Rising from your bench with a determined swagger and a raging hard-on, you make your way, barefooted, to your car, its headlights on and the motor running. Through the glass of its windows you see Amy in the passenger's seat, her golden hair still bound up and your spunk glossing her soft lips. The redheaded teen sits in the backseat, not having bothered to redress, with her legs crossed Indian-style and her clothes in a neat stack in the seat beside her. A veritable stream of your sperm oozes from her swollen, reddened cunt-lips, dribbling onto the leather of your backseat. Both girls are on their phones, contentedly scrolling away with their smiles showing nothing but pleasant patience, awaiting your return.

You can't help but smile at your handiwork. Twenty minutes ago you were a kissless virgin with no hope of even getting a date with your crush, and now you have two girls eager to please you in any way you want dutifully sitting in your car, totally at your mercy. Things are certainly looking up, and this is quickly turning out to be a most wonderful birthday. Rapping on the glass with your knuckles, you get the redheaded girl's attention; she rolls down the window and turns to face you, a blissful smile presented to you to compliment her seed-leaking canny. 

"Hey," she blushes, "are you ready to go?"

"Not quite," you answer her, and lean into the interior to kiss her deeply and passionately, taking your time to savor the feeling and taste of her tiny tongue and devilishly-delicious lips. When the kiss breaks and you pull back, a strand of her saliva bridges your mouths for a moment before dripping lewdly onto the seat. Her pale cheeks and freckled chest are burning bright and her little thighs and well-fucked hole begin to quiver with need.

"Whats your name?" You ask simply, a plan forming in your mind to make what is essentially a kidnapping a little more above-board, if such a thing is possible.

"Phoebe Meletopoulos" she answers breathlessly, the last name rolling off her tongue in a rather foreign fashion. You don't recognize the origin; Albanian? Croatian maybe? It's hard to say but you make it a point to ask her later.

"It's great to meet you, Phoebe. Do you want to come stay with me for a while? I have my own place."

The question, you know, is one that need not be asked. If you desired you could simply tell her exactly what to do and how to feel about it and she'd never bat an eye. But you feel a bit responsible for her, and still a bit guilty about basically stealing her from what is most likely a happy home. 

"Of course I'll come stay with you," she says as if its the most obvious thing in the world, adding, "I mean, I'm in love with you, aren't I?"

Suddenly the command you gave her when you pierced her hymen comes rushing back to the front of your mind. Shit, you've already told her what to think and how to feel. You ordered her to love you, and of that awestruck look on her face is any indication, she's being totally honest with you. You're a monster, but at least she should be happy about what you have planned for her.

"Uh," you stutter with a bit of uncertainty before finding your voice again, "I know you do, Phoebe. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with living with me. I want you to speak your mind with me and be honest about how you feel, can you do that?" You hope this will help ease your conscience but you've already changed her personality. You don't want her as a slave, just a girlfriend. One of many, hopefully. So you want her comfortable, and to be open with you.

"I can, if that's what you want," she answers sweetly.

"Good," you muse, "And, just out of curiosity, how old are you?"

"I just turned thirteen." She beams, proud of her newfound status as a teenager. Your cock twitches in response.

Giving the thirteen-year-old another sloppy, wet kiss goodbye, you command Amy to get in the driver's seat and tell Phoebe to roll up the window. You'll be back in a few, you promise them, after you clear up some business inside. 

Time to go break the news to Mr. and Mrs. Meletopoulos that their daughter is yours now.


	7. The Talk

The talk goes very well, but of course you knew it would. Sitting across from you at a table with his wife beside him, Mr Meletopoulos nods sagely as you outline your vision of his daughter's future. Phoebe, you explain, is your new girlfriend; in fact, she's your _first_ girlfriend, and you don't intend to share her with anyone, not even her family. The corners of his mouth tighten when you say this, but his steely gaze never falters, and he continues to nod in silence. The grip that his wife has on his large hand tightens too, but she merely stares in understanding as you explain.

Part of you wonders why you're even doing this. God knows you don't have to. And maybe some day, you think, you won't want to. But for now you can't help but feel a pang of responsibility and guilt for abducting Phoebe out of her parents' lives. They can't stop you, true, due to the magic of the ring, but it doesn't mean they won't miss her, or she them. Thus, you've decided to make it clear to everyone involved that she can still talk to her family and see them occasionally, either visiting them when you're gone or allowing them to visit her in your home when you allow it. Considering that they may one day stay in your guest room, you turn your eyes to Mrs. Meletopoulos and really drink in her form for the first time. 

She's, by any measure, a beautiful woman. Her hair, the same red as Phoebe's, is long like her daughter's, well-maintained, and slightly curled. She sits across from you dressed in a tight red dress that matches the shade of red painted over her lips. Its neckline is deep and exposes her absolutely massive bust, the creamy swells of her bosom adorned with a few freckles. Her eyes are a piercing amber, and watch you ogle her with half-masked interest. Hm, it seems even this woman is not immune to the ring, though you're not sure if you'll use it on her -- she's a bit too old for your tastes, though she's probably no more than thirty-five, and looks several years younger than that.

Mr. Meletopoulos, on the other hand, must be pushing fifty if the gray at his temples is any indication. His lined, dark, and chiseled face speaks of a man who has worked very hard for a very long time. His eyes, sparkling green and clear, are where Phoebe's come from, you're sure. The same eyes that looked into yours with lustful, childish devotion the moment you pierced the girl's maidenhood are now studying you with an intensity that would make you buckle without the knowledge that the ring ensures your safety when the matter is the sexual and personal freedom of his middle-schooler daughter. 

"... any questions?" You ask when your spiel is complete. You've outlined everything: Phoebe is yours, she'll live and be taken care of by you, and you'll make sure they see each other as often as possible without it interfering with yours and Phoebe's relationship. 

"Just one," comes the heavily-accented baritone of the man, "then you may be on your way with our little πίθηκος." While you don't understand the last word, you can tell there is a strained hurt in his words, and politely let him continue, "What is your name, young man?"

Frankly you find it kind of funny that you keep forgetting to give your name and get those of others, but when you can skip the formalities and get straight to fucking there's very little reason to learn people's names. In fact there's no reason to make it a policy unless it's someone special, like Phoebe. And now that you think about it, what business is it of this man's to know your name at all? You're only speaking to him out of a kind of fondness for his little girl, not out of respect to him. 

Suddenly, you have a devilish idea, and give your reply, "Do you want to know who I am?" You ask with a sarcastic smirk. 

Mr. Meletopoulos nods gravely. 

You smile and answer, "This is who I am."

You stand up from your seat and walk to stand near Mrs. Meletopoulos, extending a hand to gently play with the soft red tresses cascading down her back. Your cock, which has stayed hard throughout your conversation due to the show the woman's cleavage hasbeen giving you, is pointing straight at her, and her amber eyes can't help but drink it in, her mouth opening slightly and her pink tongue extending to wet her crimson-painted lips unconsciously. 

"Mrs. Meletopoulos," you begin, emphasizing those words which are most taboo to try and get a rise from her husband, "when I took your _little girl's_ virginity, when I _fucked_ your daughter's _underage_ _pussy_ , it was so _tight_ that I came almost immediately." Your hand snakes lower to her lips and you slip a thumb between them. Beside herself now, with her eyes wide, your redheaded MILF of a target seductively licks and loudly sucks your invading digit. 

You continue, "Phoebe came _so_ hard on my _big, adult cock_ that we made such a mess, can't you see?" And for emphasis you grip your tool by the root and shake it. Sure enough, your combined juices still cling to your rod, solidified now, but still smelling of musky cum and girly delight. "Will you clean your daughter's girlcum off me, please? With your mouth?" At once Mrs. Meletopoulos is out of her chair and on her knees. Without ceremony she slips the whole of your manhood into her hot, wet mouth, hollowing her cheeks with the force of her fellatio. Groaning, you grab fistfuls of her gorgeous hair and bask in the pleasure her lips and tongue are giving your swollen dick. You close your eyes in the rapture that can only come when your first blowjob is from a woman who's been giving them for decades. 

Quickly, however, you force your eyes open, suddenly remembering that you did this for a purpose. Your eyes lock with Mr. Meletopoulos', and you smile at him like a madman. You speak to him, knowing his wife is far too preoccupied with blowing you to pay any mind. 

"Your wife's mouth is divine, sir." For emphasis you buck your hips a few times, causing her to moan and her sinfully skilled tongue to curl about the underside of your cock, titillating you in a way which is brand new. 

"But not nearly as good as I'm going to train your little girl to be." His eyes widen, and with astonishment you notice a tent beginning to form in his slacks. 

"Holy shit," you say instinctually, "is this turning you on? Gross, dude. What are you, a cuck?" His wife has taken your tool from the confines of her mouth and is now licking your dick all over, apparently taking her task of cleaning you very seriously. Appreciatively, you stroke her cheek and coo, "Good girl, good girl." You know you won't last much longer, even as she runs her lips over the sensitive head of your rod and hums, vibrating what feels like the whole of your soul through your manhood. 

You'd better make this quick.

You grab the redheaded woman under her arms and pull her up, and with a growl you pull her dress over her head and order her to lay on her back on the table, with her head facing you. She quickly complies, and unhooks her lacy red bra for good measure, letting it fall to the tile beneath you. All the while you're pumping your throbbing shaft and raping her body with your eyes. When her breasts are free and she wears nothing but a pair of scarlet pumps and a tiny vermillion thong, you gasp at the beauty of those titties, and quickly stop jerking yourself to stop from cumming too soon.

Her freckles merely dust their tops, and below they are smooth, pale, and unblemished save for two tiny pink nipples that are quickly hardening now that they're exposed. They looked big before, but now you see that they're enormous; with her trim waist you'd think they were fake if it wasn't for their natural swell and shape. If Phoebe's even end up close to those one day, you'll be a lucky man. Moaning animalistically, you walk forward and plunge your spit-slick cock directly between those heavenly tits. With wild abandon you begin humping away at them, totally uncaring that Mrs. Meletopoulos' face is basically full of your swinging balls and clenching ass. All that matters is that you're fucking the most beautiful breasts you've ever seen, and they feel divine. 

Her spit makes you glide between them like a dream, and her manicured hands soon rise to press them together, those adorable pink nipples poking up at you, a treat for your eyes. With your hands free, you tweak one of her nipples and sneak a hand into her thong. Pounding your hips into the valley of her breastfeed, you curl two fingers into her snatch, lock eyes with Mr. Meletopoulos, and ask his wife, "Whose titties are these?" 

"Yours!" Her voice comes harsh and drained from behind you. Your smile at the man widens. 

"And who owns this pussy?" Your eyes widen and you sneer at the helpless man now. You give her clit another rub with your thumb, smearing some of her copious fluids into a neat, red landing strip just above her slit. 

She squeezes her breasts together even harder and exclaims in near-orgasmic and accented delight, "Oh fuck, it's yours, it's yours." Her legs clamp together tightly and she cums, writhing on the tabletop right in front of her husband and the patrons of the bowling alley. A veritable torrent of lubricant gushes from her cunt to soak her tiny panties and she hums with overstimulation.

You won't be far behind. Struggling to extract yourself from her tits, you spin Mrs. Meletopoulos around until her gushing, hungry pussy is lined up perfectly with your horny cock. Her insides are silken and caress your prick lovingly, desperately clinging to squeeze out what sperm it can. You grab onto her large, perfect breasts for leverage, her stiff little nipples sticking up defiantly between your fingers, and ram yourself home, balls-deep, into her once, enough to make her cry out in passion once more, then extract yourself entirely when you're just on the edge of orgasm. You line up your pussy-lubed cockhead with her twitching ass and spear yourself into her butt with one powerful, masculine thrust, eliciting from her a scream that melts into a whorish moan as soon as she feels your rod begin to pulse and unleash your pent-up seed.

What feels like liters of your cream fills her butt, and without taking your hands off those tits, you lean down to French the redheaded MILF. Adorably, she wraps her long legs around you and pulls you in, making sure your tool is firmly hilted in her clenching booty. It's only your fourth kiss in your life, the first three having been with her daughter, and Mrs. Meletopoulos takes the lead, gripping the back of your head and forcing her long, skilled tongue in your mouth. Her forceful nature spurs you on, and you start to hump against her asshole, gently, as your cock is still embedded in her. You don't intend to cum again, or actually fuck her, but you know she loves it, as with each jump of your hips, her kissing becomes more passionate. 

Eventually your make-out see session reaches its conclusion, and you slide your sensitive rod from her anus. A small amount of your pearly seed runs down the crack of her ass, straining the thin string of her thong and pooling on the table below. You look up at Mr. Meletopoulos, noting with disdain that a large wet patch adorns the front of his pants. Pathetic. His breathing is heavy and uneven; clearly, you were able to crack that stony exterior. 

"You want to know my name?" You crane your neck to your conquest's ear, nibbling it once before whispering hasty instructions, then heading for the door. 

"From now on," you call over your shoulder, "your wife is only going to think of me when you fuck, and she'll only ever call out my name. Maybe that will help you remember."

You walk out the door, and back into the night. 


	8. Going Home

When you stride, bottomless, sexual equipment bobbing with your steps, into the evening, a cool breeze chills your exposed bottom half, and the asphalt of the parking lot feels like ice on the soles of your feet. It's a cold night, but autumn should still be a few months out, thankfully. You should be able to experiment with living your life pantsless for a while at least. You smile. How many young guys get such a chance to enjoy their youth like this? Happy birthday to you. 

When you get back to your car, you decide to buckle up in the passenger's seat, hoping to get a chance to talk with Amy a bit on the ride home and thankful your blonde crush remembered to have the heater going. Originally, you muse, it was she who was meant to take your first time, but you'd ended up getting a bit carried away with your little prize in the backseat. You don't want to neglect her, however, and still feel something _different_ for her. You like Phoebe, a lot, and you wouldn't give her up for anything, but you've known Amy for years and she's more than just a friend, at least in your eyes. Curious how she feels about everything that's happened, you tell her to head for your place and resolve to question her a bit on the way there. Respectfully, Phoebe doesn't interrupt, letting you play questions and answers as much as you like. 

"Amy," you start, unable to resist reaching out a palm to grope her full, perky breasts while she drives, unperturbed, "how do you feel about what happened tonight?" You hold your breath mid-squeeze on a young tit, slightly nervous about how she might react to seeing you in a very different light than usual, especially considering her hyper-religious outlook. Nothing you couldn't change if she doesn't like it, but you still respect her opinion.

Her lips purse, and your heart flutters to notice that your sperm still coats her lips and chin. "Hmm," she appears uncertain, "I had fun, though I wish we'd finished our last game. I was winning!" She's not joking, you know for sure, and you shake your head ruefully at the thought that Amy's biggest concern was her score in bowling. It seems like you'll need to be more direct. 

"No, Amy," you speak insistently, and grope her covered breast _hard_ to make sure she's paying attention, "I mean the sex. How do you feel about me fucking a little girl's thighs and squirting ropes of cum into her deflowered pussy? How do you feel about slurping up my cum from my cock and her little hairless slit? How do you feel about me mauling your chest?"

A fire lights in you and you bend your mind, all of your will towards her. This, then, must be the work of the ring. You feel your consciousness touch upon a source of energy which is hard to describe, but it feels like a shifting, warping pool, endlessly deep, that your mind can dip into and extract a power to be brushed upon the world to confirm it to your desires. You will with all your might that Amy tell you the _truth_ , the entire truth. 

"I loved it." She whispers, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Oh shit, did you hurt her? You ease up on the groping and content yourself with copping a feel beneath her yellow dress and tasteful bra. For the first time your fingers brush her bare, exposed, sixteen-year-old breast, and you merely hold it there, savoring its softness and the feel of a tiny teenaged nipple pushing warmly against your palm. 

"I loved all of it," she continues unbidden, "to tell you the truth, I'm a disgusting pervert. A degenerate. A sinner." More tears roll down her cheeks and you feel a shot of guilt over using that strange power to force her to answer you. You might have broken her. Fuck. She speaks now with what, strangely, sounds like relief, even excitement.

"Ever since we've met I've had disgusting, impure thoughts about you. I've...I've touched myself at night, writhing in pools of my own sweat between my sheets, moaning and groaning your name through clenched teeth while I humped my soaked kitty against a pillow."

This is just too much for you. Even though you've cum more times than you should have been able to tonight, such dirty talk from such a sweet girl has you back at full mast, and you waste no time in extracting your hand from her bra to move it to her arm, pulling her delicate, feather-soft hand to your turgid shaft. Instinctually, her pure fingers curl around your length, and she begins pumping you in earnest. 

Your toes curl and you bark out, suddenly, "Tell me more."

And she does, all the way to your home.

She tells you how once when you were both fourteen she'd visited you at home, stole a pair of your boxers and still used them today to smell and wear when she surreptitiously friggs herself, stuffing her mouth with them to stifle her moans when she cums uncontrollably, imagining you bearing down on her and filling her with cum. She tells you how she's gone through your phone over the years, searching for dick pics, only to never find any, and how it drove her wild imagining what your cock could look like. 

All the while her palm, now slick with your pre-cum jerks your cock faster and faster, sometimes slowing or squeezing your leaking head to tease you, other times squeezing your shaft so hard your eyes screw shut. She's learning as she goes, but clearly your 'innocent' crush is anything but, and is a natural at jerking you off. Your hand goes back to her breast, kneading it now like dough, and eliciting many lewd noises and exhalations from the blonde teen. You're amazed, frankly, that she can keep her eyes on the road during all this, but you're certainly not complaining. Your groping encourages her to pick up the pace, her slim hand a pale blur over your rock-hard cock. 

You're about to blow. Again. 

"And tonight?" You manage to gasp through clenched teeth.

"Tonight was one of the hottest things I've ever seen in my life. You're so sexy, so in-control. I love the way you raped Phoebe. I love how you didn't think twice before fucking such a little innocent girl. I want to help you fuck her every day, honey. I want to hold her little pale legs open while you empty yourself into her. Then I want you to fuck me while I eat it out of her." 

Holy shit, she's good at this. Has she always been so perverted, or did that power just flip a switch in her? You're moments away from painting her hand white.

She goes on, sensing your orgasm and cranking up the perversion that final notch to feel you cum in her hand. 

"Oh, I can feel how close you are. You loved fucking her because she's so little, right? I bet you did. Please, please, _please_ fuck more little girls. Will you do it for me?"

Lust-drunk you nod your head and your body tenses up, preparing to fire your load all over your car interior. 

"Please let me help you fuck little girls. I want you to have more. So many more girls, and... _definitely_... _younger_."

You gasp and the floodgates are opened. Several thick ropes pour over Amy's hand, and a few stray shots hit the seat over your shoulder. One even makes in into the back seat and you hear an excited "Yay, cum!" From Phoebe before loud slurping noises confirm that she's drinking it, wherever it landed. Following suit, Amy gingerly withdraws her gooey hand from your lap and brings it to her lips, licking them with exaggerated slowness, clearly for your enjoyment. When her palm and fingers are completely cleaned, she pulls the car into your driveway, turns to face you, opens her mouth wide to prove that it's all gone, giggles adorably, and winks, shutting off the motor and exiting your vehicle. A second slam confirms that the still-naked Phoebe has followed suit. 

Holy fuck. What have you done to Amy? 


	9. Amy Undressed

The rest of the night was supposed to be passed mainly giving Phoebe a tour of your place. It wouldn't have taken very long, as it's your first apartment and rather modest, but that's quite okay with you. It's not as small as some, since you do have a guest bedroom, but it's not like that bed will be seeing any use tonight.

The planned tour was interrupted, however, when you thought up a brilliant idea.

The moment you entered, you'd taken off your shirt to stand completely nude as king of your little kingdom. As for your girls, you told them you expected them to strip down to at least their underwear when they were home alone with you, but explained that you intended to spend as much of your own time, whether inside or out, as naked as possible. They'd giggled at that while Amy undressed in the living room, and you'd sat yourself down on the sectional with Phoebe pressing her equally-nude, warm, lithe little body against yours to watch her strip in all her glory.

First came the yellow sundress, which she threw over her head and onto the back of a chair. Below she wore a matching plain white bra and pair of conservative panties. Her smooth, unblemished skin was flushed with pink, and you smiled with satisfaction when you noticed the damp patch staining the gap between her creamy thighs. Seems your trip home had quite an effect on her. 

Then came what you were really interested in. Purely on instinct, you wound your fingers into Phoebe's long, red hair and gently guided her head to your lap. The sight of Amy's well-proportioned and nubile body had your worn-out dick erect and eager despite a lingering ache from all the hands, mouths, pussies, and ass you'd sampled since the ring came to you. Phoebe, though completely inexperienced at her ripe age of thirteen, is no fool, and opened her dainty little mouth as wide as it would go to allow entrance to your swollen cock's head. Her mouth is as petite as the rest of her, so only the first couple of inches fit along her wriggling tongue, sealed in by her soft, prepubescent lips. Phoebe began to, very slowly, build up a rhythm to nurse your cock to peak hardness, lovingly ministering to the two inches of your rod she could suck at once. She didn't know what she was doing, of course, but her enthusiasm and tenderness was appreciated, and it was only your second blowjob after all. Thankfully, she never increased her pace, allowing you to hold out while you watched Amy disrobe.

Amy slowed down her movements deliberately, coyly humming and occasionally looking your way while to ensure you were enjoying the show. If your gasps and grunts of satisfaction were any indication, she was succeeding, though it took a mighty effort to ignore the hot, sucking mouth of the teen sitting beside you.

First, Amy faced away from you, toward your small kitchen, and bent over to remove her socks. The thin fabric of her underwear stretched obscenely over the full roundness of her beautiful ass, and the dark splotch of feminine lube betwixt her thighs made a beautiful contrast to her pale skin and paler undergarments. When her socks were off and thrown to the side, Amy took advantage of her bent posture to hook two thumbs into her waistband and, slowly enough to be agonizing to you, slid her ruined panties down the gorgeous cheeks of her big, teenaged butt, inch by inch.

With each passing second, another tantalizing bit of those sixteen-year-old asscheeks was revealed, between which you knew lay the untouched asshole of a prime piece of jailbait . The size of Amy's rear, however, obscured that target from your lustful gaze, and the yearning you experienced to see it, to press your tongue to its sinful tightness, caused a large dollop of pre-cum to lurch from your tip, coating Phoebe's tongue, and eliciting from her a contented moan that vibrated through your dripping shaft. The small girl redoubled her sucking and licking, still keeping you constantly on the verge of release.

Eventually her booty came into the open, and you caught the barest peek of a pair of drooling pussylips before Amy whipped around and stood to her full height. For the next act, she sashayed toward you, her flowering hips rolling in time with her seductive stride. You saw that she must not shave, since a womanly blonde tuft of hair keeps her little slit hidden from you, though your eyes drink it in while your dick jumps with happiness beneath Phoebe's gentle worship.

You could only imagine how that ass must have been jiggling behind her, but had little time to fantasize, for when she was just close enough for you to reach out and touch her, she released the catch of her bra, and it fell uselessly to the carpeted floor. Then Amy stood stark naked at your side, smiling coquettishly and biting her lower lip with playful daring.

Now here you sit; a girl you've fawned over for years is nude and awaiting your command, totally at your mercy. The choice on how to proceed is yours.


	10. Peaches & Cream, And Talk Between Teens

Without a word, and only a _pop_ to signal that you've withdrawn thirteen-year-old Phoebe's slick mouth from your cock, you reach out and pull Amy into your lap. You twist her as she descends, so that your weeping, horny dick is now sandwiched between the bountiful, thick globes of her butt. A satisfied moan flows from her open mouth like honey, and you feel her tightest little hole twitch and wink, unseen, on the iron-hard length of your manhood as the firm flesh of her ass rest comfortably along your shaft and in your lap. Gripping her perky breasts from behind, you subtly shift your pelvis to indicate how she should proceed.

Not missing a beat, Amy begins dragging her juicy peach up and down the turgid pillar of dick invading her crack, and you almost whimper as the sensation of her smooth, sixteen-year-old asshole gliding up and down your lucky prick dominates your senses. The head of your proud tool moves with her, sticking straight up between her buttcheeks when she descends, and being pushed against your abdomen, sandwiched between a hairless hole and your stomach, when she pushes her delectable booty toward you. 

You have mere moments, you know, and summon all your will for one last movement before you blow. You mash her tits with a force that would probably make her cry out in any other situation, but only produce a guttural groan now, and, on an up-slide, thrust your hips upward with all your might. Thanks to the copious lubrication from Phoebe's licks and sucks, your horny cockhead lodges itself into the tightest, hottest hole you've felt thus far. Amy squeals half in pleasure and half in pain as her butthole is claimed for the first time, but you aren't done yet. Drawing on all your resolve to hold on for one last push, you hilt yourself completely into the blonde teenager's vice-like ass.

Stars form at the corners of your vision, and your naughty cock aches with the pressure and sweet feeling of release, as several mighty blasts of your seed empty into Amy's butt. She cries out in ecstasy, apparently cumming too. Phoebe merely looks on in wide-emerald-eyed wonder, nervously bringing a tiny freckled hand to her own ass, perhaps imaging how you'll feel in there when you inevitably take it. 

Amy leans heavily against you, your dick still invading her depths, and catches heaving breaths, laying her hot, sweaty form against your own.

"I love you"

Only those three words escape her lips before her long-lashed eyes flutter closed, and she rests peacefully with her sweetly-scented golden hair cascading over you both.

Picking her up is a simple matter. She may be well-proportioned for her young age, but you're rather strong. The only difficulty comes in bringing yourself to remove your softening dick from the tight, pink ring of her butt; it's so snug, such a perfect fit for you that you never want to leave. But unfortunately, you know you must. And regrettably you do.

You skip showering Amy tonight and decide to just wash your sheets tomorrow. Laying the blonde carefully down in your bed, you resolve to make sure a blanket is pulled up to keep her warm, but not before spending ample time roving your perverted gaze and hands over her fucked-out body. Her even breath cause the swells of her supple titties to rise and fall so gracefully. Gently, you snake a hand into the cleft of her sex and savor the dampness therein, probing a curious finger into her dangerously tight tunnel to check if her hymen is still intact. It is, and you're already excited to be the first to feel what the inside of her most sacred place is like.

You draw the blanket up, content with your lechery for now, and turn out the light before closing the door to your bedroom quietly. You step into the hallway and eventually make your way back to the living room. Now to deal with Phoebe.

Surprisingly, or maybe not-so-surprisingly considering her age, Phoebe, seated naked on your couch, is on her phone, typing faster than you thought possible. Seeing you enter she looks up, a doting smile and a few stray strands of spit adorning her face.

"Is she still asleep?" A thin, pale arm wipes at her mouth and she giggles adorably.

"Yes, she is, and you should be too, young lady," you remark with a mocking tone, teasing her, "what's got you so interested?" You gesture to her phone, and a new blush passes her cheeks for a moment or two.

"Oh," she starts hesitantly, "just a boy."

You feel your hackles rise and, strangely considering you just buggered a girl in front of the teen, jealousy stirs within you. A boy? Talking to your little prize? That won't do at all.

You sit next to her and put your arm around her thin shoulders. She snuggles up against you and continues typing, freely allowing you to monitor her conversation with this 'boy'. You stay silent for now, merely observing their communication as it takes place.

 _Alan: "you still up? Roger's got his car, we can come get you_ 🙂"

This Snap comes in along with a picture of three young teens in the dark interior of a car. The dashboard lights illuminate their features, and shockingly, you recognize one of them as Roger, Amy's classmate from whom you obtained the ring earlier. He's not the guy talking with her who took the photo; that honor belongs to a curly-haired youth who looks about Phoebe's age -- Alan, apparently. Seated beside him in the backseat is an exotic Asian girl whose sweet smile is positively infectious. You bite your tongue for now, and let Phoebe respond.

_Phoebe: "idk I might be busy tonight, let me check"_

She turns her innocent eyes to you, and they're full of a pleading hope. Suddenly she's not your adolescent plaything, just a teen girl who wants to go out with her friends. She doesn't have to worry about her parents finding out, and you can't help but feel obligated to reward her somehow for her devotion to you so far. You decide to give her what she wants, with a twist.

"Tell them," you begin, "that they can come get you, and send them my address. But when you're done with your little teenage antics, make sure they're all in the car when they bring you home, and have them come in. I want to meet these friends of yours, okay? And _please_ be safe, Phoebe, I don't want anything to happen to you on my first day in charge of you."

You affectionately cradle her closer, not hesitating to slide your hand down to her budding breast to give it a loving squeeze. She hums with delight and thanks you, clearly oblivious to the mischief you have in mind.

After she rises and begins dressing in the clothes she's brought inside, you give her your phone number and the address of her new home. You stand as she approaches the door to head outside, and call out, just to be safe, "Remember not to let _anyone_ touch or kiss you like I do, and if _anything_ at all goes wrong, call me _immediately_ , understand?"

Dressed, Phoebe smiles heart-meltingly and assents, then stands on her tiptoes while you stoop to see her off with a deep, very adult kiss. She turns to leave through the open door and you give her a playful smack on her tiny bottom. With a squeal and a slam of the door, she's gone. You're excited for what will come later, but undeniably nervous too. You really hope she'll be okay.


End file.
